


Sapiens, No Homo

by feistymuffin



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Androids, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistymuffin/pseuds/feistymuffin
Summary: The doctor enlists the help of his cousin, Chase, for a small favour.





	Sapiens, No Homo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdorabloodthirstyKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/gifts), [SeasonShifter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasonShifter/gifts), [snuggletart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuggletart/gifts), [Optimistic_Avacado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimistic_Avacado/gifts).



> this is a belated chrysler gift to all my friends, who apparently love the shit that I churn out for odd ships, and also a five-month-iversary for my wonderful, creative, beautiful darling AdorabloodthirstyKitty, so here y'all go, you amazing fuckers !! 
> 
> the title is credit to Bo Burnham, who is a brilliant comedian and if you haven't seen his stuff, i can guarantee you'll love it !!
> 
> anyway, enjoy c:

The door creaks when Chase pushes it open, palm flat on the wood, and as he peers into the dark within he asks the doctor hesitantly, "You're sure this is safe, right?"

Dr. Schneeplestein waves an impatient hand, motioning for him to move on. "Of course, of course. I just require... an additional set of hands, for simplicity's sake." When the younger man makes no move to advance Schneeplestein makes a rough noise, his accent a little more grating, saying tersely, "I do not, however, have all night, Mr. Brody, so if we could progress?"

"Right," Chase says, nodding, but it still takes him a moment to take a step into the dim laboratory, hand searching the wall for a switch. "Remind me again why I picked up the phone an hour ago? I'll be wanting some context when I meet my imminent demise at the hands of one of your... experiments."

He doesn't need to turn around to see Dr. Schneeplestein's unimpressed scowl of impatience. "What good are cousins if one cannot call upon favours?" With some poorly concealed irritation the doctor moves him aside and slaps a hand onto the wall, flipping a switch just past Chase's fingertips and casting bright light into every nook and cranny of the pristine room. Along one wall of the modestly-sized lab is a long console with several panels of buttons, and opposite that a lengthy counter littered in electronics and what looks like biological components of... something. The far wall is covered with two giant chalkboards and three file cabinets, all of which appear to be overflowing their contents into the surrounding area. Beside them between the two chalkboards is a large, wide, vertical tube with a window that seems to be obstructed by whatever's inside it.

Chase just sighs, though, and lingers at the doorway when Schneeplestein trounces into his lab, beelining for the cabinets to start sifting through the papers spilling out of one of the drawers. "It's Christmas Eve, you know, dude. I had plans."

Schneeplestein scoffs derisively and doesn't look up. "A bottle of Captain Morgan, a carton of eggnog and an Overwatch marathon is not _plans_. It's pathetic."

"Really selling me on helping you, cuz," Chase snaps. He folds his arms, eyeing the large container across him at the back of the lab. "What is it you need help with, anyway?"

"Fine-tuning," Schneeplestein says absently. 

And that appears to be all the answer he's getting. Chase doesn't bother muffling his noise of frustration, but it doesn't really make him feel any better and his cousin doesn't respond anyway. He eases into the room a step at a time, studying the various things scattered on the counter to his right, and glances up at the doctor's victorious, "Finally, here it is."

He crosses the room to the button panels, sets down the single sheet of paper in his hand and starts typing rapid-fire, referencing the page as he does. "This won't take but a moment," Schneeplestein murmurs, and then the cylinder at the back of the room starts emitting a low hum. 

"What are you doing?" Chase wonders, edging closer, warily glancing at the container. 

Schneeplestein sighs, neglecting to reply until he's finished typing. He hits the last button with a flourish, then turns to Chase. "He needed an update. Now, this is where you come in."

"He?" Chase parrots, numbly going along when Schneeplestein tugs him to stand before the cylinder. "Who's "he"?"

"Patience," Schneeplestein chides gruffly, and unfastens the latch on the front of the container. The window on the front offers no clarification to what's inside, but it becomes moot when the doctor swings the front of the container open on smooth hinges. 

A man blinks back at him, brunet, handsome and strong-jawed. His face is a little rugged with some beard growth, but he has kind eyes to go hand-in-hand with his killer smile and fantastic body, and when he lifts his eyes to meet Chase's gaze he feels frozen where he stands.

"This is Google," Schneeplestein introduces, waving a hand towards the container and its cargo.

Surprise grips him first, then shock, and then incredulity mixed with ample horror. "God, what the—Schneeps, are you keeping people in here? What the f—"

"Oh, calm down," Schneeplestein mutters before he can work himself into an indignant fit, although the doctor is smiling slightly. "Google is an android. Google, meet Chase, my cousin." 

The android— _Android!_ Chase finds himself thinking hysterically, over and over like some panicked mantra—smiles kindly. "Hello, Chase," it says warmly. There's nothing out of place or graceless about the cadence of its words, nothing robotic or automated about its movements when it steps forward. Extending a hand, Google continues, "It's nice to meet you."

Chase lets out a soft sound, something near but not quite reaching delirium. "Holy shit," he whispers, and awe slowly overtakes his hysteria in compounding waves as he takes the android's hand. His grip is firm but not crushing, his skin soft to the touch and slightly warm. "I... Yeah, you too." He glances over at his cousin with confusion. "Why... why are you showing me this? It's incredible." With a hasty glance at Google he amends, "Sorry, uh, he is."

"He's impossible to offend," Schneeplestein says dismissively at his correction, and then, "This is where I need you." Chase's eyebrows spike up to his hairline, and when he turns to his cousin Dr. Schneeplestein gives him an uncompromisingly stern look in return. "Google needs a field test." When Chase just stares he elaborates primly, "You're taking him home with you."

"Wh—" Chase begins, surprise bursting through his veil of admiration as his eyes flit between the android and his creator, grasping the implication of the words. "What... what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

Schneeplestein waves a hand, disregarding the concern with a simple, "He's just like any other person, save for a few minor differences. Use your imagination."

Balking, Chase studies Google with a new intensity. He's wearing street clothes, a basic sweater, t-shirt and jeans, and although he knows he's looking at a fully-functional artificial intelligence Chase can't help but see the humanity in him, see the way his eyebrows tilt when he meets Chase's eyes and the way his mouth seems to automatically tick up into a tiny smile at the sight of him. 

"Use my imagination," he repeats, voice thin. Chase swallows despite the tightness of his throat, feels its dryness detachedly. "Sure, I can do that."

"I'll be in touch," Schneeplestein tells him, and Chase really hopes he's imagining the gravity hanging off the words.

*

Google is unobtrusively fascinated with everything, and for him there seems to be no end to the novelty of life. When Chase brings him home he touches things in the car, adjusts knobs and pushes buttons. Chase can't bring himself to chastise the android, especially when he seems to light up at every new interaction. He doesn't ask questions, though, and although he's curious he seems to understand the function of the things around him almost instantly. 

At his apartment, he wanders around the rooms and studies everything he can find. Every festive decoration and personal item within sight gets a slow, perusing touch and a furrowed brow before Google is moving on to the next thing, looking equal parts excited, confused and overwhelmed. Chase, unable to leave Google to his own devices for fear of what might happen in his absence, follows him like a shadow.

The kitchen is the second last place Google ends up, and he touches the pictures on Chase's fridge of his friends from work and his college buddies, hesitating minutely before caressing the photo of his kids and ex-wife with a delicate forefinger. The android looks at him, the first time since arriving at Chase's apartment, and murmurs with a curious expression, "You have children."

"Yeah," Chase nods, coming to stand at his side. "Jason and Carly. They're both with their mother in San Diego."

"But you're here," Google reminds him, innocent, if blunt. 

Chase sighs, hands tucking into his jeans pockets. "Yep. My wife, Stacey, divorced me last year. She got full custody because I work so much, too much to be able to really take care of two kids under five." He looks at the picture, feeling mournful for his old life, for the peace of mind of having a family to come home to. In the photo the three of them are filthy, covered in flour and batter. Carly has two handfuls of cookie dough in her hands, eating ravenously, and beside her Jason is smearing more dough across his mother's face. Stacey's expression is scrunched as she cringes away from the mess but her mouth is gaping in laughter. He shakes his head to dispel the melancholy settling within him and says a little roughly, "I had a small Christmas with them earlier this week, since my ex-wife has them now. There wasn't time to fit us all into one day, and traveling during Christmas is heinous. I work through most of the holidays anyway."

Google frowns but doesn't comment, and after a drawn out look at the tiny Christmas tree in the living room he moves on to the master bedroom with Chase at his heels. There's a blatant lack of personal things in here, no photos, no children's gifts or sentimental items that he might hold dear. A lot of them Stacey destroyed when she left, spiting him for falling out of love with her, but what's left of them he has stored away to be kept safe, only taken out in moments of mournful, lonely weakness. 

"I like your living space," Google says, finally turning to face him with undivided focus. "It's peaceful."

"Thanks," Chase replies, half-smiling. "I like it here, too. Suits me just fine."

The android nods, blinking brown eyes at him. "It is nearing midnight," he observes, gesturing to the alarm clock on the nightstand that professes it's well past eleven. "You should sleep." 

Chase nods, suppressing a responsive yawn. "Do you need anything?" He shrugs a little when Google looks at him, muttering inquisitively, "Do you, uh, sleep?" 

"No," Google replies evenly. "I have a standby mode but it's used for repair." 

"Oh," Chase says. He takes a step towards his bed, waiting, but the android stands there patiently, watching him. "Google, I, um... I need to change, and go to bed."

"Okay." He remains motionless, his face blank but friendly. 

"That means you have to get out," Chase persists, and drives the point home with a little shooing motion. 

Google smiles. "Alright," he says, and leaves the room. Chase moves to shut the door behind him, but he pauses when he sees Google standing stiffly in the living room, staring unblinkingly at the Christmas tree. It's not exactly negligence, since he's an android and not a person, but Chase stills feels a pang of guilt at leaving him alone all night. Will he really stand there the whole time, doing nothing as he waits for Chase to wake up?

_There's nothing to be modest about. It's not like he's a real guy_ , Chase reasons to himself, but it only rings half-true. Still, he calls out, "Google," and the android's head turns to him. "Come on. You can stay in my room."

"Are you sure?" Google asks, taking a few steps towards him until he's at the threshold of the bedroom. "You just said—"

"I know what I said," Chase mutters, and turns his back to him, head turned to the side to keep Google in sight. "I'm saying now that I changed my mind. Do you want to be in here or not?"

The android nods, lips perking slightly into a smile. "Yes. Thank you, Chase."

Chase looks forward, then glances over his shoulder at Google standing there, patient and motionless, blinking at him with that small smile. _Nothing to be bashful over_ , he reminds himself as he pulls off his shirt. He jolts, though, when he feels fingertips brushing the small of his back and spins on a dime, wide eyes landing on Google, who slowly retracts his hand. 

"You have back dimples," the android tells him curiously.

"Y... Yeah," Chase stutters, fingers clenching where they hold his t-shirt. He forces his heartbeat to calm down from its sudden rabbiting and murmurs, "Uh, listen, Google. It's okay to touch people, but you usually have to ask first."

"May I touch you?" Google asks politely, smiling. 

Chase blinks, cracking a grin at the earnest, innocent expression on the android's face. "No," he snorts, unable to help himself. "Keep your hands to yourself where I'm concerned, okay, dude?"

He must imagine the way Google's brow pinches briefly, minutely before he smiles and says, "Alright. Would you like me to lie down with you while you sleep?" 

"Uh," Chase says dumbly, giving the android another glance. "I... guess. Do you need to lie down or something?"

"It's enjoyable to be introspective at night," Google replies calmly, and if Chase didn't know any better he'd say there was some real humanity behind those eyes. They hold a depth of thought that's reminiscent of someone spacing out, lost in their own head. "When the world outside is quieter." He blinks, refocusing his gaze on the man before him. "It's easier to think when I lie down."

"So you... you feel things, then," Chase hedges, and he looks down to discover he's wringing his t-shirt in his hands. He nixes the fidgeting and adds in a murmur, "Emotions, and things. You think, and feel."

"As potently as anyone else might, yes," Google says, smiling. 

Filing that little fact away, Chase waves towards the bed and says, "Well, get in, I guess." The android circles the bed and sits gingerly at the other side, and after he sheds his jeans and plops down onto the mattress he says, "I like the left side, though, so... Just, keep to your half, okay?"

"Okay." With that Google lies down on top of the blankets fully dressed and laces his fingers together over his stomach. He turns his face to the ceiling, closes his eyes and says softly, "Goodnight, Chase."

"Night, Google," Chase returns, nearly a whisper, and makes himself roll over to put his back towards his bedmate. 

*

A fretful night's sleep behind him, Chase wakes to the dawning sun creeping through his bedroom blinds and the smell of bacon frying. It takes him a few blurry minutes before he's fully awake, drifting loftily on the edge of slumber before finally being roused by the sound of dishes clattering in the sink.

His eyes pop open and he groans, but he gets to his feet and wearily blinks his way to the kitchen. He stumbles into the kitchen doorway, though, and has to take a moment to reorient himself before looking up. "What're you doing?" he asks the android wearing his only apron—a frilly pink monstrosity, a gag between he and his friend Robin—and holding a spatula. 

"I am making breakfast," Google replies. "There's toast and eggs, too." He looks up at Chase, smiling a charming, beaming smile, and says, "Merry Christmas, Chase."

"Oh," Chase murmurs, then smiles crookedly, rubbing his stomach with a yawn. "Yeah, Merry Christmas, Goog."

Google's eyes follow his hand and then he asks, "Will you be going to work today?"

"No, I go back tomorrow," the human says, suppressing another yawn as he pushes away from the counter. "Smells good in here. You know how to cook?"

"I have approximate knowledge of many things," Google tells him, straight-faced, and turns back to the stove. 

Chase pauses on his way to the fridge, slowly turning to look at his houseguest. "Did you... just make an Adventure Time reference?" 

"The doctor sometimes lets me use his tablet or computer. It's a good show," Google says, like they're talking about the weather. 

"Pop culture references from a manufactured person," Chase says aloud, like if the words exist in the air they'll be easier to grasp. He lets out a short laugh and claps Google on the back. "You're pretty cool, man, you know that?"

The android looks at him over his shoulder, eyebrows wrinkled in thought. He turns off the stove and removes the large skillet from the heat, then pivots to face Chase and says, "I thought I wasn't supposed to touch you."

"Oh," he says with a bit of surprise, but he doesn't remove his hand. "Well, this is just a social kind of touching. Like a handshake."

Google studies him for what seems like too long to be acceptable in regular circumstances, but it's not like he knows social cues so mentioning it would be useless. "Okay," Google says quietly. After a few long seconds he lifts a hand and presses his palm over Chase's heart, much gentler than he had touched the android. "You are pretty cool, too."

"Thanks," Chase says, patting Google on the shoulder before stepping away. The android's hand falls from his chest and he swallows the small lump in his throat before asking, "So, uh, thank you for breakfast."

"You're welcome," Google says immediately, that characteristic small smile curving his lips. Chase gets distracted, briefly consumed by the thought of whether or not Google's mouth feels like anyone else's, if his teeth are as hard and his tongue is as soft as the next person's. He shakes his head to get rid of the thought, though, as the android continues amiably, "Would you like anything else?"

"No," he gets out with a small laugh, ignoring the wealth of filthy thoughts that pop up in his mind at the question. What is wrong with him? "Uh," Chase grunts, clearing his throat, "so, I was just going to watch bad Christmas TV all day. Unless... you want to do something else?"

"What else might we do?" the android asks, plucking bacon from the pan and onto paper towel. He turns and expertly dumps the grease into a metal can waiting on the counter, then deposits the frying pan into the sink. He transfers some bacon from the towels onto a waiting plate already adorned with sunny-side-up eggs and the whole grain toast that Chase vaguely remembers being in the freezer. 

Chase shrugs, digging a fork and knife from a drawer by the fridge, and takes his plate. He brings it to the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen and sits, gesturing for Google to sit with him. The android does, sitting in the chair to his left, and Chase shovels food into his mouth with gusto. He garbles out a few attempted sentences before chewing, swallowing and then saying, "It's Christmas, there's a few things we could do. Skating, sledding. We could go see a movie, there are a lot of Christmas ones out right now."

"I... like old movies," Google says with a hefty pause, like he's unsure of the words. His eyes are down on the table when he murmurs, "The musicals, with Gene Kelly, and Bing Crosby and that ilk."

" _White Christmas_ should be on TV today," Chase tells him, and smiles when Google's head lifts, his chocolate eyes lit up. He rushes through breakfast, Google waiting patiently in the chair beside him, but Chase can see the idle twitch of his eyes towards the living room, and the TV. When he's sated and full, offering a belch of thanks as he pushes back from the table, they move into the living room and Chase hunts the remote down to search the guide for the movie.

It takes a few minutes, but then on one of the twenty-four-hour movie channels he spots it. "Oh, here, it just started," Chase tells him. He turns and offers Google a small smile, and the android mirrors it before turning his attention to the screen. 

They're quiet, then, both attentive on the movie. Chase slouches back into the couch while Google sits with his back rigidly straight, eyes wide and absorbent. It's almost imperceptive, but at the first musical scene Chase can see the android's lips mouthing the lyrics. "Have you seen this before?" Chase asks him, although it's pretty obvious he has. 

"A few times," Google says quietly, glancing at him. "It makes me very happy to watch movies like this one. They have good messages within them."

"Christmas movies are good like that," Chase replies. "Morals about sharing and kindness. It's good to get into the festivities, even if you're not religious, you know? There's a lot to be said for Christmas spirit."

Google nods, looking back to the TV. His shoulders hunch slightly, then they relax again and he says, "The romantic parts are particularly charming. I don't know much about the experiences themselves, but it makes me feel... warm, to see someone experience it."

"That's normal," Chase tells him, bumping his elbow into Google's side. "Romance makes us all fuzzy inside. It's one of those things, that..." He waves his hand in the air searchingly, seeking the right way to phrase what he means, and the android's gaze traces the motion. "That sense of oneness with someone else. Like everything in that moment is whole, because of who you're with. It's a good feeling."

"Do you have that with anyone?" Google asks bluntly, curiously. 

"I did once," Chase sighs, "a long time ago. Now, not so much."

They're both silent again, and then Google murmurs at length, "I think... I understand." He turns to face the human, dark eyes probing and intense as they run over Chase's features before they soften significantly. "Yes, I think I understand very well."

"That's... good," Chase hedges, nerves clawing up his belly. He analyzes the piercing look on the android's face, and something in his gut swoops when their eyes meet. "Yeah, uh, good—good for you." He quickly averts his gaze and looks at the TV again, forcibly ignoring the look Google is sending his way.

Phil Davis and Bob Wallace are already in Vermont with the Haynes sisters by the time Google moves again. Bob and Betty are on screen, having a hushed conversation in the inn's dining hall over what's supposed to be a midnight snack, but ends up being an amorous kiss. When their lips meet Google turns to look at him, and Chase feels heat crawl up his neck, igniting his cheeks with embarrassment and apprehension. He purposefully keeps his eyes on the television but Google doesn't look away and finally, when the scene is long over and the movie has progressed to the next one, he turns and snaps, "What?"

Unperturbed, Google makes sure to look into his eyes as he says, perfectly normal, "Is kissing a social kind of touching?" 

"Of... a kind," Chase says hesitantly. It's not really a surprise considering the preceding question, but when Google's hand comes up to cup around the back of Chase's neck he still panics, still shoves a hard hand into the android's chest. It doesn't move him back, though—it barely even shifts him, but it does make him pause as he starts to lean forward. "What—what the hell are you doing?" His voice is weaker than he wants, and he's thankful that Google probably doesn't know what that means. 

"I'm touching you socially. Is something wrong?" Google asks him, immobile, but Chase can feel the brand of his warm fingers along his neck. 

"Yes, something is wrong!" Chase says snippily, and it's clear that Google at least registers the sincerity in the words, if not the heat in his voice. He roughly shrugs off the hand at his nape, and Google leans away instantly. "You don't go initiating stuff like that without asking first!" 

"May I kiss you?" Google queries at once, eyes wide and, dare he say it, hopeful. 

But it's too much, too ridiculous and too soon and too everything for any of it to make sense. "No!" Chase snaps, shoving him again when Google lifts a hand, but it's not even moving towards him. He leans back and huffs irritably, his heart pounding behind his ribs like cardiac thunder. "You can't... Just—stop touching me at all, okay? No more touching."

"Of course," Google says, perfectly even, but he's not smiling anymore. Wordlessly he turns back to the movie and he even moves down the couch as far as he can go, putting a hefty space between them. The android's head turns back minutely, not enough to actually look at him, as he says, "My apologies, Chase. It will not happen again." 

They finish the movie, Google mouthing the lyrics to each musical number, and with every passing second that the android sits there without any sense of the companionship they'd been building, Chase feels his guilt growing. Google isn't stupid, in fact he's the complete opposite, and Chase didn't have to use force or bad temper to get his point across that his touching was unwanted. _But it wasn't, though, was it?_ something traitorous whispers in his mind. _It wasn't unwanted at all._

And there it is, the thought he'd been trying not to think since Google walked into his apartment. He's attracted to an android, and one constructed to appear male at that. Chase hasn't ever liked a man before, not once in his twenty-eight years, and he's certainly not about to start with something that isn't even human. He isn't about to start at all, because he _doesn't like men_. 

_It's a fluke or something_ , he assures himself. Google is a novelty, a wonder of science that Chase is enraptured by. Anyone would get caught up in that feeling and see things that aren't there. And as far as he knows, Chase is the first human beside Schneeplestein that Google has seen. It makes sense that he'd latch on tightly and develop feelings almost instantly for someone so suddenly important to him, someone so new and exciting. 

The movie ends, and although the credits are rolling the android doesn't look away from the screen. He sits woodenly at the other end of the couch, staring at the ascending text with a vacant detachment. Chase coughs slightly and Google's head turns a little. "What, uh, what do you want to do now?"

"It doesn't matter," Google replies, lifting his shoulders in a minuscule shrug. He turns and looks out the apartment windows, even though he probably can't see much since the blinds are drawn. "Whatever you would like."

" _Con Air_ is on after this," Chase says, checking the TV guide. "Want to watch it?"

"Whatever you'd like," the android murmurs. Chase scowls but tamps down his irritation, setting the remote down and slumping back into the couch cushions with a huffy grunt. 

They make it through _Con Air_ without a single word being spoken between them, and as Chase gets up to stretch his legs during the post-movie commercials he mutters, "Well, this is fun."

"I am sorry that I'm not good company," is Google's instantaneous reply. He pauses before adding, "I can contact the doctor, and have him remove me."

"No, that's not—" Chase starts, sighing. He rubs his temple and grumbles, "Just, don't worry about it. Stay here. I have to piss." 

He's barely gone a minute, but when he comes back Google isn't on the couch. He stops mid-stride on his way out of the bathroom, glancing around to locate his lost charge. "Google?" There's no response. He advances into the living room and spots him, standing in the front hall staring at the door as if it'll make way for him if he thinks hard enough. "Goog? What are you doing?"

The android glances back at him. "I'm thinking about leaving," he says, then faces the front door again. "I... should leave."

"Why do you think you should leave?" Chase asks him, bewildered. 

"I keep upsetting you with my behaviour," Google says, quiet as a mouse. "The doctor says I should be mindful of my actions, since I'm so different from... everyone else. What I do can greatly affect others." 

"I'm not upset, it's fine," Chase reassures him, but Google still doesn't move. "Come on, man, I'm serious. It's not a big deal." Google's eyes flit over his shoulder, looking back at Chase, and he adds with conviction, "Honestly, it's okay. I'm enjoying myself, I promise."

"You are certain?" Google persists, turning slightly to face him. 

Chase nods. "Positive," he confirms, and grins for good measure. Google hesitates for a moment but he follows when Chase goes back into the living room. He sits at the opposite end of the couch, a whole cushion between them, and Chase asks him, "What should we watch now?"

"Anything is good," the android says politely. Chase shrugs and picks _The Princess Bride_ when he scrolls past it on the guide, leaning back into the comfortable couch. The film is over halfway through, and as it progresses Chase stiffens whenever the main characters kiss but his tension is for naught. Google seems unaffected, sitting stone-like with his eyes fastened to the screen. 

_Did I break him?_ Chase worries, studying his reticent profile. He had been admittedly harsh when he rejected Google but it was necessary, wasn't it? The point was made and received that he isn't in the market for anything Google has to offer him, plain and simple. So why does his chest ache as he looks at Google's empty expression, at his unsmiling mouth? 

"Are you okay?" Chase can't help asking him when the movie's over, credits scrolling up the screen. "You're really quiet."

"I'm fine," Google says, and even for an android the words are unfeeling. His lips quirk up slightly, a sad excuse for a smile considering the ones he's seen on Google's face before. 

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Chase asks apprehensively. 

"Yes," the android says truthfully, the single word a flat acceptance. "But I was inappropriate." 

"Well, it's not like you forced yourself on me, or anything," Chase mutters, cheeks flushing despite his insistence that he's unaffected. "You listened when I said no."

Google doesn't reply, eyes on the wall opposite them. His fingers are laced together in his lap, unmoving and almost prim, and Chase is reaching out before he catches himself, yanking his hand back quickly. "Come on, you don't have to be sad," he coaxes. Google nods, glancing over at him but still making no move to do anything else, say anything else. "Listen," Chase continues, a bit desperately, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be so rude."

"Thank you, but it's okay," Google tells him, and this time his smile is a little more genuine. "I was wrong to approach you romantically. The doctor warned me not to."

"What?" Chase blinks, then frowns. "Why would he do that?"

"He told me that you wouldn't respond well, since I am what I am," Google replies, as if it's obvious. "He was correct."

"It's not because of what you are," Chase argues instantly, but as he does he winces at the lie. He soldiers on, "I just don't want that right now. With... with anyone."

"Of course." The android nods, apparently accepting that answer. He looks at Chase, the first time he's met his eyes directly in hours, and smiles. His heart clenches in his chest but he ignores it, even when it flares into a short stab of pain when Google looks away, eyes downcast to his hands in his lap. "Of course," he says again, softer, and this time Chase hears the self-deprecation. 

_Can androids even have self-pity?_ he wonders, but as he looks at Google's stiff shoulders, his expression that slowly fades from content to dull, he thinks that maybe he's underestimated just how much Google can really feel. 

"Come on," he says firmly, getting to his feet. Google looks up, eyes wide with subtle confusion, and Chase gives him his best grin. "You and I are going out."

*

The sidewalk is slick with ice beneath his shoes, which are probably too bald and bereft of traction to do him any good in a crisis of balance, but he has yet to slip and they're walking at a meander anyway. 

"I've never been in a convenience store before," Google says, plastic shopping bag hanging from his eager hands as he looks inside it again. "I didn't know they had so many things."

"Hence their convenience," Chase teases, laughing. "Why’d you need bubblegum, though? You can't eat it, can you?"

"I can consume food," Google tells him. That's news to Chase, definitely, and his eyebrows lift in surprise. "I don't have a need to, though, and I have yet to." The android shrugs, but his smile is beaming. "I am interested to see what this tastes like."

“I’m glad, dude,” Chase says, tucking his hands in his pockets to stay the cold. “Candy is pretty awesome.” He studies Google, wearing Chase’s borrowed winter jacket and scarf, and he wonders if they taste things the same, if Google has preferences of things like he does. But he already knows that Google does, he realizes, because Google’s said himself that he likes old musical movies and has proven it by knowing the words to each song in _White Christmas_. 

“Do you like candy, Chase?” Google wonders, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

He hums noncommittally, shrugging a bit. “I used to love it when I was a kid, and I still love sweets and cake, but I eat candy a lot less than baked goods or sugary food and I don’t eat those much at all anymore.” 

“I see,” the android murmurs. He looks like he wants to say something else but he doesn’t speak, so Chase doesn’t either. 

When they arrive at his apartment building they take the stairs to the second floor and Chase unlocks his front door to let Google in first, then shuts and locks it behind them. He takes his coat back from Google along with his scarf, and then the android is gone from the front hall with his convenient spoils. Smiling at his enthusiasm, Chase hangs their coats and follows. 

Sitting on the couch Google holds a pack of bubblegum in each hand, two different flavours, and appears to be in deep contemplation. Chase leans a shoulder on the doorjamb and waits while Google deliberates, and when a decision doesn’t seem to be forthcoming he says, “You can always have both, you know. One and then the other right after.”

“Indeed,” Google mumbles, but he still looks torn. Finally he lets out a soft sigh and sets one down then begins to open the other with efficient fingers. When he has a piece free of its packaging he rolls it between his fingertips pensively before popping it into his mouth and chewing. 

Right away his face lights up with joy, clearly a fan of the taste, and as he chews his elation only increases. “It is very sweet,” he garbles through the gum, and Chase laughs. “Is this what strawberries really taste like?”

Chase smiles, sitting with him. “No, this is just strawberry flavour. The synthetic flavour is used in candy a lot even though it’s a far cry from actual strawberries, but it still tastes good.”

“Yes, it tastes good,” Google agrees, chewing with vigour. He frowns, though. “Doesn’t food break down when you chew it? Why does bubblegum not do this?”

“It’s chewing gum, you’re not supposed to digest it,” Chase tells him. “It’s just for chewing on, for the flavour. When you don’t want to chew it anymore, you spit it out.”

Google nods, apparently focused on masticating, and Chase reaches for the remote to turn the TV on. He browses the guide as Google smacks his gum next to him, and he decides on a bad made-for-television movie for the holidays. It’ll be good for a laugh, if nothing else. 

They watch the movie, and after a while Google delicately spits out the gum back into its wrapper. He eyes the other package with longing but apparently decides to save it for later and instead turns his attention to the movie. The leading couple is in the middle of a heated fight, something about her father being the corporate monster that put his parents out of their old home, and Google turns to him with a small frown.

“What is it?” Chase asks him.

“People can fight and be upset with one another even when they care deeply,” the android murmurs, eyes like molten mud. 

“Uh, yeah, they can,” he says haltingly. He’s put right out of sorts by that look, drilling into him like a mining rig. “Even if you love someone it’s pretty impossible to not fight at least a little.”

“So if we fought earlier, we can still care about each other,” Google continues.

“That—that’s different,” Chase blurts, hands lifting as if to deter the questioning physically. “We don’t love each other. People fight, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Google says, wide-eyed and earnest as hell. Chase’s heart pounds, beating him from the inside, and he can’t formulate any kind of response so Google carries on, “I do love you, Chase. It is very soon after meeting but I know what I feel is true.”

Chase backs up, scooting to the other side of the couch but alarmingly Google follows him, matching his retreat with an advance. “Listen, you think you know what you’re feeling, but—”

“I know you feel something for me, too,” Google interrupts, coming closer. “I can see it when you look at me, when you think I can’t see you.” He shuffles over and now he’s close enough that their thighs are nearly touching. “Why do you resist?”

“Because you’re not—” _Real_ , he almost says, but he catches the word before it falls clumsily from his mouth. Google must see or at least extrapolate what he was going to say because his whole face falls and he leans back, already turning away. 

“I understand,” he says neutrally. His mouth barely moves. 

“Don’t—Okay, I didn’t mean it like that,” Chase tries, slightly frantic. “I just—I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re not the same.”

Google doesn’t respond, his eyes cast far across the room. He’s utterly still, barely even breathing, and it’s obvious that Chase’s words did nothing to comfort him or convince him that they shouldn’t be together. With some desperation Chase says, “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

“No need to explain,” Google murmurs. “Statistically heterosexual people such as yourself don’t often switch sexualities. Being male, I can easily gather that you’re not attracted to me beyond some physical urge that you can’t control.”

Quickly Chase’s hand shoots out and grabs Google by the arm, though whether that’s to prevent him from moving away or to seize his attention Chase couldn’t say. Google’s eyes snap up, something accusing in them, but he remains still in Chase’s grip. 

“I’m really sorry,” Chase says, heartfelt and somber. He rubs his thumb soothingly along Google’s arm and the android looks at his hand with blatant surprise. 

“Why do you keep touching me if I can’t touch you?” Google asks him. His voice is strained, stretched like a balloon. Chase couldn’t ignore the hurt in it if he tried.

“I don’t have a good answer for that,” he mutters, sighing roughly. Google looks away from him then, to the window where the last light of the day is streaming in through the blinds. It’s almost time for dinner and since Chase didn’t eat lunch he ought to start thinking about eating soon, but the only thing on his mind is the too-rigid posture of Google’s shoulders. 

“You should have the doctor come get me,” the android says lengthily without turning. 

“No,” Chase growls. He refuses to believe he’s screwed this up beyond saving. “I’m sorry, but no. I don’t want you to leave on bad terms.”

When Google finally speaks it’s a mere, soft, “Okay.” His gaze is fused to the television and Chase squeezes his arm once before letting go. If Google felt it, he doesn’t show it. 

They watch Wheel of Fortune in mostly silence, and then Jeopardy! after that. It takes some time and some idle nudges from the human—“Come on, Goog, don’t tell me you don’t know _that_ one”—but by the end of Jeopardy! Google is calling out answers as often as Chase is. He automatically changes the channel to the weather after it’s over, taking in the cool, snowy forecast with begrudged apathy, and beside him Google is quiet but no longer withdrawn.

“What should we do?” Google asks him over the melodic background jingle for the weather channel. “It’s Christmas night. One typically has plans or goes out on a night like tonight, correct?”

“Yeah,” Chase says, nodding. “I have a few parties I was invited to but there are none that I’m comfortable putting you through, with a bunch of strangers who wouldn’t understand you.” He shrugs lightly, leaning back along the back of the couch. “We can stay in. I’ve got some beer in the fridge, and plenty of bad food for you to experience.” 

For a moment Chase thinks he’s somehow broken the android, but then Google is smiling so broadly that he feels his face instantly warming in return. “That sounds perfect,” Google replies, beaming. 

So Chase breaks out the snacks and the liquor, popping a beer for himself and an orange soda for Google. He offers the can with a grin to the wary android, but when Google takes his first hesitant sip his face blooms into a joyful smile. Immediately he’s cringing though, smacking his mouth once and saying with a small cough, “It tingles on my tongue.”

“Carbonation,” Chase tells him. “It makes drinks fizzy. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Mmm,” he hums, already taking another sip, and Chase hides his grin by taking a hearty chug of his beer. 

They sit on the couch again and Chase hands Google a bowl of chips which he starts to eat by the handful, like if he pauses it’ll disappear. “It won’t run away on you, man,” Chase snorts, watching him litter his lap with crumbs. 

“I apologize,” Google says through his mouthful, his hand covering the lower half of his face. Chase smirks, and the android hastily chews and swallows before adding with some clear embarrassment, “They’re very, ah… they’re very good. Thank you.”

Chase claps him on the shoulder and sits beside him, grabbing up the remote and opening the guide. “You bet, Goog. What should we watch?”

“Are there any cartoons on?” he asks, so honest and pure that Chase has to smile at him. It turns out Adventure Time is on, some older episodes on Teletoon, and Chase switches to it. Google’s smile is almost brighter than the TV screen in the living room’s dimness. 

They watch Adventure Time—there’s a marathon, apparently—and he gets through four beers before he stops himself, riding a steady buzz as he watches Jake the dog and Finn the human. Google is riveted by the show, and every now and then Chase finds himself smiling helplessly over at the android. It’s… nice, having him around. He’s a breath of fresh air in Chase’s stale life, bringing a new sense of fun and companionship into his world—a world that’s been steadily shrinking ever since Stacey left. 

Sitting beside him, soaking in his presence like a sauna room, Chase feels lighthearted at the idea of Google sliding closer to him on the couch, their arms brushing, their knees bumping. He feels dizzy at the thought of Google’s broad hand sliding up his thigh, coaxing his shirt away from his body. His face flushes hot and he glances over at the android but he’s engrossed in the show, fully unaware of Chase’s filthy mind running away on him. 

After that he forces himself to focus on the show, but that only serves in making him drowsy as he blinks blearily at the harsh light of the TV. Chase slouches back and rests his head on the back of the couch so he can still watch the show but also rest his eyes a bit. 

He doesn’t realize he’s dozing until Google is tapping his arm, warm fingers brushing his skin and his low voice saying, “Chase, wake up.” He blinks, lifting his head and Google is right there, inches away from his face. He should recoil, he should lean away, but he doesn’t. Behind Google the TV is still going, playing another show that he doesn’t recognize, and the city outside the windows is completely dark. Slowly he lets his head rest on the couch again and turns to face Google. 

“You touched me,” he murmurs, just for something to say.

Google’s face is impassive, half-shielded by the gloom. “I’m sorry. I was calling your name but you wouldn’t wake up.”

“It’s okay,” Chase says, smothering a yawn. He arches his back in a slow stretch and looks at Google when he says, “You can touch me.” What is he saying? 

He can’t regret the words when he sees how the android’s face lifts happily, can’t even regret it when his tan hand instantly reaches out to brush down his arm. It makes him shiver, that idle, warm touch, and he meets Google’s eyes as his own hand lifts. Unsteadily and so, so slowly, his hand cups at Google’s jaw, thumb resting at his cheekbone and fingertips under his ear. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers hoarsely, lightheaded and hot-bodied. Google doesn’t bother replying and his hands come up to curl around his neck, fingers linking at Chase’s nape. They hold each others’ eyes for a laboriously long moment, clarification and permission in one, and then the android is leaning in. 

He’s unhurried, giving Chase all the time in the world to shy away again, but this time he meets him halfway, tugging Google close by the hand at his face. Their lips come together softly—first a small, lingering caress as Chase opens his mouth, brushing his lips gently over Google’s, and then a longer, deeper press as he tilts to get Google’s mouth under his. Google makes a soft, uneven noise when he pulls back infinitesimally, instantly bringing him back to kiss him again and Chase goes willingly, eagerly, swinging a leg over him and climbing right into Google’s lap.

“I feel hot,” Google rasps against his lips, groaning gently when Chase sits firmly on top of him. “My body is… hot, and… swollen.” 

“That’s normal,” Chase tells him, kissing along his stubbled jaw, fingernails clawing into the back of his neck as he moves the android where he wants him. He’s not gay, and he knows he’s not whatever sexuality that prefers androids, but then… why now? Why Google? Why him, when for the past year and a half he’s seen and tried to date countless women, only to send them packing when they didn’t interest him? What is it that has him caving after only one day of knowing this person that can hardly be called normal, if he classifies as a human at all? It’s obvious that Google is a person—he thinks, he feels, he emotes, and he’s just… warm. He has personality, likes and dislikes, preferences, all of the things that make up anyone else. _So what if he was put together or grown or whatever, instead of being born? He was made just as meticulously as anybody who was born, and he’s just as deep and complex as them, too._

Google moans into his mouth, hot hands planted firmly at Chase’s hips and squeezing, when Chase shifts on his lap mid-kiss. Briefly the human pulls back, eyes taking in the flush of Google’s mouth in the glow of the TV, hands brushing Google’s hair back from his face. He smiles at Google’s wide-eyed look and leans down to put a soothing kiss on the side of his neck. 

“I don’t know… what to—to do,” Google confesses when he leans back again. His grip at Chase’s waist is almost too tight but Chase would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. 

“I can talk you through it,” he murmurs, brushing another kiss over his lips. 

Google chases his mouth as he leans back, wondering with some well-deserved awe, “Then… you want this? You do want me?”

Chase grins, laughing softly and nodding. “Yeah, Goog, I want it.” And, softer, “I want you.”

“Do you love me?” the android asks, hushed, probably aware of the question’s power.

Chase sighs softly, looking down into eyes so dark and beautiful they swallow him like quicksand. Already Google has a hold on him, an undeniable sway to his life and decisions, his actions. It’s not that Chase minds—in fact he still feels the effect of it all, the uplifting bubbly sensation under his heart that makes him dream of tender, careful things like breakfast for two and a warm, full bed. “I’m beginning to,” is what he goes with, because it’s certainly not false. It’s enough for Google as well, and as his face lights up Chase kisses the joy right off his lips. 

“Take me to bed,” Chase whispers against his mouth and Google is standing at once, as easily as if he hadn’t been burdened with a grown man in his lap. Hands on Chase’s butt, he walks them into the bedroom and lowers them both to the bed, Chase gently set on his back with Google over him, dark hair tickling his forehead. 

“What now?” Google murmurs, hands rubbing distracting circles on his thighs. 

“Clothes, off, all of them,” Chase replies. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs it up and over, baring Google’s chest. It’s naked of hair and imperfections, a lightly chiseled chest and toned stomach with smooth, tan skin and dusky little nipples. Chase leans up and licks one with the flat of his tongue, revelling in Google’s full-body tremble, so he does it again, sinking his teeth into the flesh of his pec. 

“You—you said clothes off,” Google reminds him unsteadily, hands planting on the mattress at either side of Chase’s shoulders. 

“I did,” Chase grins, and makes quick work of Google’s belt and jeans buttons. He shoves the entire thing down his hips and thighs and Google does the rest, kicking everything—including his boxer briefs—off and onto the floor. 

Glancing down, Chase finds himself enraptured by the sight of Google’s dick. It’s not terribly unlike his own—bigger for sure, longer and thicker. And, oddly, he’s cut. Being the first cock he’s seen and interacted with in person besides his own, it’s surprisingly… normal. 

Seeing that Google is nervously watching him, Chase takes no time at all in shimmying out of his clothes, shoving his jeans and underwear down and whipping off his shirt before foisting it all off the bed and onto the floor. 

But his confidence goes with it, because as soon as he’s naked with Google’s eyes on him like he’s some amazing work of art he feels his stomach coil up with nerves and anxiety. The android sees this and crawls forward over him, clumsily kissing his way up Chase’s stomach and sternum before hovering over his mouth, planting a final kiss there. “We do not have to do this,” Google says gently, curling a hand around his neck and rubbing. 

“Oh no,” Chase laughs breathily, tamping down his mild panic with the effectivity of a sledgehammer. “You wanted to get in my pants, you’re in them. Now do something about it.”

“This colloquialism doesn’t clarify things,” Google says with a small frown. “Your pants are on the floor. Should I be wearing them?”

But Chase is laughing too hard to answer, and instead of trying to explain he tugs Google down by his bicep—firm, and hot under his fingers, and he can feel the flex of it when he lowers himself—and kisses him soundly. The android is easily distracted by that, and his body lowers completely onto Chase in one slow, wave-like swoop. First his hips, nestled between Chase’s, and then his stomach and chest press down onto him, snugly fitting them together. 

Google turns Chase’s head to the side and mouths down his jaw to his neck, idly biting with no pressure and leaving little licks with the tip of his tongue, and slowly Chase slides his arms up around Google’s broad back, nails digging into his skin when he pauses and begins development of a hickey on the pale expanse of Chase’s neck. 

After biting gently over the mark Google draws back but right away Chase brings him down again, hands scrabbling for purchase on his skin, tugging him down so Chase is able to whisper through his embarrassed flush, “Can you fuck me?”

“I can,” Google says, and his voice cracks slightly. “I—I don’t really know how.”

“It’s okay, I can help,” Chase says hurriedly, and despite not knowing much about anal sex himself he’s already squirming away to get his lube from his bedside table. Usually he only uses the stuff when he’s having some alone time and wants less friction and more glide, but now he’s grateful on a whole other level. He comes back with the bottle in his hand and hands it to Google, saying with some remaining apprehension, “It… Uh, you put some on your fingers and, um, one at a time, you put them…” 

Google must be able to see the minute way Chase’s hips are squirming because he puts his hand over Chase’s balls, making him jump, and then further down, down until his fingers meet his asshole. “Here?” he asks quietly. 

Chase can only nod, face flushing brightly at the intimate touch, something he’s never let anyone do to him before in his entire life. Google’s other hand runs up his chest, fingernails scratching over his light chest hair before he pulls back and opens the lube, squirting some onto his right hand before setting it aside and adjusting Chase’s legs so they’re spread wide. He feels heat crawl along his chest, flooding down his body to his legs and stomach, and even as Google breaches him with one slippery finger he still clenches hard and jerks away from the intrusion. 

“I’m sorry—” Google says at once, pulling away, but Chase hooks his ankle around his waist and keeps him from going far. 

“It’s okay, I’m just… not used to it,” he gets out. Google waits, hands a warm comfort on his thighs, until Chase nods and murmurs, “Okay, try… try again.”

His hand slides down and disappears between Chase’s legs again, and again he feels Google’s finger pushing inside with an odd sense of dissociation. _Not gay_ , he reminds himself, even though the excuse is running thin. He shuts his eyes, unable to watch the focused, intense look on Google’s face as he pays extreme attention to his hand, and soon it’s not an intrusion but a welcome entrance. Per each stroke of Google’s hand his body is steadily, surely overcome with the sort of warm, tingling feeling that has Chase’s legs falling open, a heady moan dripping off his lips. 

“Is this okay?” Google asks, like Chase’s flushed face and very hard cock somehow aren’t attributing to his pleasure. 

“Yeah,” Chase groans, jerking his hips when Google slowly adds a second finger. “Yeah, yeah, just like that—”

“Okay,” the android murmurs, bending to kiss the blushing skin of his thighs. 

Google works him just up to three fingers and Chase is slowly accustoming himself to the feeling of fingers inside him, but beyond that he has to prepare for the main attraction. He’s not sure why he wants this kind of sex with Google when they could’ve just jerked each other off, or tried blowing each other, or any manner of combinations of the two, but he feels… taken care of. Loved, and cherished, and precious. Google is taking his sweet time stretching Chase, uncaring that it’s taken minutes upon minutes, uncaring of his own desire. He’s fully intent on his partner, and damned if that doesn’t flatter him to hell and back. 

“Okay,” Chase huffs, when the three fingers are starting to feel just a bit too good. Google draws his hand away and Chase mumbles, “Um, you can… put more of the lube on your dick, and, uh…”

“I believe I can do the rest from here,” Google says, and Chase must be imagining the way his mouth quirks up just slightly. 

“Oh,” he mutters, and shifts to watch when Google slicks up his cock efficiently, stomach jerking as he does. Then the android is pushing him onto his back and levering Chase’s legs to rest over his hips, scooting forward until his cock is pressing insistently to his ass. “Go—go slow, okay?”

“Of course,” Google replies, and he lowers himself to kiss Chase deeply. Chase clings to him, hands delving into his hair and hanging on, so Google stays there and moves his hips to unhurriedly push his way inside. 

He expects it, he knows it’s coming but Chase gasps at the stretch, at the sheer size of Google versus his fingers. His chest heaves with laboured breaths, panting in Google’s ear, his nails dug soundly into his shoulders. If the android minds he doesn’t say anything, just slowly moves himself deeper and deeper until his groin is brushing against Chase’s balls. _Is it still gay if the guy isn't an actual guy?_ Chase wonders distractedly, even as his mind begins to fray with sensation after sensation.

Google pauses, then, maybe sensing Chase’s need for a reprieve or just knowing that his body must be under some significant stress, and starts pressing kisses to any parts of Chase he can reach. His neck, his cheek, his shoulder all get littered with kisses, small pecks of Google’s lips that serve to both soothe Chase and make him hotter. After a few minutes Chase nods a little and gets out, “Okay… you can move.” 

Google starts by drawing his hips back nearly all the way and sinking himself right back in just as slow, hips rolling in large circles, dragging the breath out of Chase’s lungs like a vacuum. With each stroke Chase swears he feels him reach farther than the last, hitting him harder than anything before as he drags back out again. His breaths are a mixture of brief and long, fast and creeping, and Google is obviously taking cues from his body language because his thrusts pick up in speed but he still gets him so deep, reaching that spot that Chase can practically feel between his eyebrows when Google hits it. 

He keeps it slow, though, and Chase curves his body to try and get more friction, more oomph on the way in and out to go with the gravity of every thrust’s pinnacle. Google’s kisses turn into nibbles, open-mouthed presses and the occasional bite, each time making Chase cry out as Google lines it up with a push inside. 

“You’re fucking doing me in here, dude,” Chase whimpers, body shaking with heat and need, hands clawed into Google’s back. “Do something, _please_.”

“What do you want me to do?” Google whispers back, mouthing at his jaw. 

“ _More_ ,” Chase moans as he shoves in again, perfectly unhurried but still just as brutally deep as the first time. 

So Google nods, hands moving down Chase’s sides to grip him at the waist, and his thrusts increase in speed, his large circles becoming smaller and faster. Right when Chase thinks he’s going to die from sexual frustration, the deepest part of his body inside thrums with a trembling, buzzing sensation and he _screams_ , hands clenching hard in Google’s hair, nails embedding into his back, and his legs looping tightly to link his ankles behind Google’s back. 

The buzzing doesn’t stop, though, and a sob wrenches itself from his throat when Google fucks him harder, faster, but still no less deep. Now with his cock vibrating, he’s hitting every spot on the way in and out whether Chase likes it or not—and he’s still on the fence about that. 

He opens his mouth on every gasping, sobbing breath to speak, to say something like “What are you doing to me?” or “What the fuck does your dick vibrate for?” or, most importantly, “How do I get you to do it forever?” But none of it makes it past a moan or a shuddering sob, and his body is probably shaking too hard to make anything properly audible anyway. 

His ass is in a state somewhere between numb and stuffed full of vibrating cock, and in turn his dick is weeping copiously onto his belly, precum drooling out of him like a dribbling faucet. Gasping, he bucks into Google’s thrusts, arching his back and feeling his eyes flutter shut even as he goes cross-eyed and his mouth falls open on a silent, sobbing moan. 

Saliva traces a cool, thin trail down his chin as his mouth gapes with pleasure, as he lies there trembling and moaning shakily, trying like hell to open his eyes and get a coherent thought out. It isn’t long after that before Google is fucking into him with speed and voracity, clearly seeing that Chase is in a whole other level of ecstasy, and he didn’t stand a chance. He comes in thick spurts up his stomach, only managing to get out half-sobbed words and cut-off cries of blissful, wrecked pleasure.

Google doesn’t stop until Chase feels a sloshing sort of gooeyness inside him, and then the responsive wetness seeping from between his cheeks. He knows what it means but he’s having trouble remembering his own middle name at the moment, so he doesn’t bother getting upset that Google came inside him. Foggily he rolls his head to face Google, who’s still hovering over him, still inside him and smiling like he just won the lottery. 

“When can we do that again?” Google demands, palms rubbing serenely over his hips. 

“In five minutes,” Chase says wearily, contemplating the pros and cons of trying to sit up. He smirks, though, eyes half open as he takes in Google’s beaming face, feels his roaming hands like the most comforting caress. “Merry Christmas to me, huh?”

“Merry Christmas to _us_ ,” Google corrects him, grinning widely, and Chase can’t help it when his lips form a beatific but worn out smile. 

"Yeah," he says, toying with a lock of Google's dark hair, "Merry Christmas to us."


End file.
